


Enigma of You

by Languidly



Series: Enigma of You [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Transformers Artifact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26140372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Languidly/pseuds/Languidly
Summary: He hauled up another mech who’d been lying limp on the ground - a Decepticon this time, he noticed distantly - and all the while Megatron gurgled incoherently in the back of their shared processing space and contributed marvelously to their continued existence simply by way of keeping his optics online.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Series: Enigma of You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960678
Comments: 16
Kudos: 237





	Enigma of You

**Author's Note:**

> No fandom continuities were followed in the very impulsive writing of this story. 
> 
> Also, I offer my deeply indulgent take on Combiner technology.

Optimus heard the grinding sound a split second before Megatron did, which was not to say he was any better prepared when he felt a _yank_ on his internal mechanisms, dragging him back as powerfully as a portal. His transformation cog spun wildly, and then the world flipped. His vision folded into blackness for a terrifying, dizzying moment, the cannon in his hand powering down abruptly without a target in sight.

Sight bloomed back without warning in deep muted colors, gray and scratchy. It felt as though he were looking at the battlefield through a large screen, rather than his own HUD, and there was another presence in his processor that was equally shocked and horrified-

:: **No.** :: Megatron breathed, as shakily appalled as Optimus had ever heard him. Right on the heels of the realization that he was hearing Megatron’s voice in his head, there was a sinking twist in his own spark, and with the sensation that his arms and legs were no longer quite his own, Optimus understood. 

“No!” Megatron howled, jumping over a downed Autobot with his own fusion cannon whirring to life. Except it was Optimus who was jumping, and it felt like Optimus’ arms flailing about in blind panic, because they had _combined_.

A volley of enormous wicked arrows rained down from the Quintesson ship directly above, spearing the two Decepticons in front of them, and Optimus - or Megatron - staggered back, barely in time. One arrow missed his - their! - pede by a scant meter, and then they were falling back, and Optimus noted the rasping vents of an Autobot collapsed on the ground as they passed and reached down to pick him up with servos that were a fair bit larger than he was used to. He slung him over his - their! - back, and then tried, :: Calm down, Megatron. :: because what else could he say?

The fact that Megatron was now physically unable to leap on him and snarl in his face would have...almost been funny, if not for the fact that Optimus was now operating purely on the simple lines of code in his processor that urged him to _Fight, Save, Survive_. He hauled up another mech who’d been lying limp on the ground - a Decepticon this time, he noticed distantly - and all the while Megatron gurgled incoherently in the back of their shared processing space and contributed marvelously to their continued existence simply by way of keeping his optics online. 

They passed a familiar frame wedged under a collapsed heap of metal and Optimus automatically reached down to pull him out, even as Megatron’s agitation settled and his gaze narrowed, and he _seized control of the arm_ , so that just as Prowl was tugged free of the debris, he was shoved unceremoniously back into the pile again. 

:: Megatron! :: Optimus tried for commanding, although it ended up exasperated. :: We must save everyone we can. The Quintessons do not distinguish among us; we agreed we would set factions aside temporarily- ::

:: I don’t care that he’s an Autobot, Prime. :: Megatron sounded darkly amused, if still slightly wild. :: I just don’t like him. ::

The sound of a much, much larger weapon powering up from above had them snapping to attention, and Optimus, in the moment that Megatron was distracted, grabbed Prowl by the ankle and heaved him out again. He wedged the tactician under an arm, both shoulders already occupied with their previous rescues, and then they were running as Megatron barked orders for the allied troops to clear the area. They were covering a great distance with their larger strides but not every mech around them had the same luxury, and Optimus realized that they wouldn’t be able to save everyone at the exact same moment that Megatron stopped, threw off their cargo, and whirled to face the incoming blast. He slammed the sides of their hands together and a great shield transformed up from their palms, just in time to meet the searing heat scorching a sizzling rift in the ground.

It should have hurt, but Optimus was too busy being amazed because the shield was suddenly emanating its own force field and was expanding, rippling outward and pushing the blaster fire away with it. Another volley of those serrated arrows came whistling down towards them; they bounced off the force field like rust sticks, and all the while the mechs below them scurried desperately to safety. Megatron was gritting his denta, concentrating on something, and abruptly the force field _lifted up_ , and Megatron was hurling it towards the Quintesson ship above them. 

It smashed into the hull with a thunderous crack before erupting in a blaze of light, taking the enemy ship with it and knocking the three other ships around it askew with the force of the explosion. Blaring sirens filled the air, and the Quintessons...Optimus could barely believe his own - or rather, Megatron’s - optics. The remaining ships were turning around and _leaving_.

:: How did you know to do that? :: Optimus managed finally, as Megatron transformed their palms back and then staggered to the ground on one knee. It was _his_ knee, Optimus noted somewhat detachedly; he could feel the metal shards digging in. 

:: I don’t need to tell you anything, Prime! :: Megatron snapped, and then their systems spun apart like a lever had been thrown and they were transforming back, Optimus experiencing the same dizzying darkness for several excruciatingly long nanokliks and a reverse, near-uncomfortable sensation of being unfolded.

His own vision returned in bright and vivid color. It caught the flash of yellow in front of him, and his own HUD recognized a very dumbfounded Bumblebee a moment later. 

“Uh.” Bumblebee said.

“Which of you Pit-slagged fools activated the Enigma of Combination?!” Megatron roared. “I’m going to kill you all!” It sounded slightly hysterical, which ruined the effect to some degree.

***

It turned out that no one had activated the Enigma - the artifact had simply been shot to the ground in the barrage of attacks, and apparently rolled to a fortuitous stop between Optimus and Megatron before temperamentally cracking open. It had been clamped shut and was now locked away in a secure vault, the location of which had not been revealed in case Megatron decided to destroy it for its impudence.

Because they did not know when the Quintessons would return for another full-out attack, there was only a very short, slightly frantic discussion before their combiner was christened Vindexor (in spite of Megatron making his preference for “Subjugator” loud and clear). As leaders of their respective factions, neither of them could be ordered to do anything by anyone - but the pathetic state of their dwindling forces and the devastating damage to Cybertron exerted a pressure that could not be denied. 

Then there was the slightly hostile but expectant worship from Autobot and Decepticon alike that appeared overnight. It was probably what tipped Megatron over the edge because he glumly appeared at the appointed time the next day in response to Optimus’ invitation to work out the limits of their combination. His red optics gleamed with obvious reluctance, mirroring Optimus’ own as they stood just a little too far away from each other to do, well, anything really.

With a deep sigh, Optimus closed the distance between them, and Megatron croaked “Vindexor” as ungraciously as if he’d been asked to hold Optimus’ hand. 

This time, Optimus was more prepared for the spinning, twisting sensations as his vision blacked out again and his body doubled down, gears shifting smoothly and drawn towards Megatron’s own transforming frame as if magnetized. They fit together perfectly with a series of clicks as various parts aligned and locked, and then he was looking out through the grayish staticky HUD once more, clenching and unclenching large fists that felt both like his own and not at the same time.

:: You do realize this means the Enigma recognized I have the superior mind. :: Megatron bit out snidely. :: Since it’s _my_ head on this combiner. ::

Optimus would have sighed again if he could, but thought of a far better way to shut Megatron up. :: Are you saying I have the superior body? :: 

Megatron’s jaw snapped closed with an audible thunk, so hard Optimus could almost hear the denta grind.

:: Right. :: Optimus swung his arms around experimentally. :: Shall we? ::

The first joor passed in a wave of frustration that swept so high, Optimus was sure he would have burned through some circuitry if it’d been possible with the power of his irritation. Even in their combined form, Megatron couldn’t stop thwarting him. He locked up a knee maliciously just as Optimus tried to test their jumping capability, which only resulted in an awkward one-legged hop ending with Megatron planted face-first into the ground. Then - in revenge for that which was _his own fault_ \- when Optimus asked Megatron to try and replicate the shield they’d created, Megatron growled that he didn’t have to listen to anything Optimus said, and deliberately spent almost an entire breem leisurely stretching his fingers to ‘warm them up’, before offering the grand finale of a completely unnecessary and extremely crude gesture when Optimus had ordered him to stop wasting time. 

Optimus could have sworn he heard the echoes of Starscream’s chortling laughter, bouncing off unrestrainedly around the canyon where they had isolated themselves.

:: Look, Megatron! :: he finally lashed out, patience tried beyond belief. :: When the Quintessons attack again - and you _know_ they will - do you want to look so incompetent in front of whatever people we have left? We have precious little time to understand more about what we can do to save everyone, to- to defeat our invaders, are we just going to keep running around in circles?! :: He hadn’t shouted, not for a long time; the dignity of the Prime simply didn’t allow for it, but Megatron was nothing if not an exceptional test.

There was a heavy pause. 

:: ... _Fine_. :: Megatron grit out, just as the warning alarms sounded back from base.

***

It seemed Optimus had had the wrong idea about practice, because whatever inspired moves Megatron was making as the battle raged on seemed to be pulled together purely on instinct. He was a natural brawler through and through, cutting through swathes of enemies with well-placed precision and a tactical cunning that jarred thoroughly with any formal defense or training. It was one thing to have seen it from afar, and quite another to be experiencing the sheer _fluidity_ and power with his own body.

This time, the Quintessons had unleashed their pet destroyers - monstrous metal beasts that towered over the average mech and which were almost equal in size to Vindexor. Acid frizzled and dripped from their snarling jaws as they charged and pounced indiscriminately, seizing mechs up between razor-sharp teeth to screams and the sickening sound of metal splitting. Optimus tried not to pay attention to each new cry for help that he could hear, or wrest control back from Megatron just to look; there was no place for interference in the middle of their own deadly dance as they fought their way through towards the large docked ship from which the beasts continued to spill forth through a sputtering space bridge bathed in wavy green light.

Their combined cannon was a thing of beauty. Three times as large as Megatron’s own, it sat on their right arm, and had been charging up as they advanced all the while, gathering an ominous and crackling energy that somehow managed to stay stable as it flowed through their shared systems. Megatron was utterly focused, and in three more steps they would be within point-blank firing range-

:: _All hail Megatron._ :: A stilted transmission staticked and full of agony, and Megatron froze, concentration breaking for a split second. 

Then with a ferocious roar, he covered the remaining distance, and the cannon discharged straight into the enemy space bridge with a deafening whine just as a hulking beast crashed into them, smashing them apart. Optimus unfolded into root mode even as he was sent tumbling away and the beast reared up on its hind legs above Megatron, uncaring of the detonation at its back that would disintegrate it, and indeed everything else that would stand in the path of the blast from the collapsing bridge.

Optimus hurled himself back, rolling over Megatron on all fours as he sent commands to his Matrix-reinforced armor to tighten flat and his joints to lock. Megatron’s optics were darkened and flickering; he still managed to reach out with one shaky hand, gripping at Optimus’ arm with a disbelieving tremble.

Then the beast’s forelegs slammed down on Optimus’ back, and he was gasping as his struts bowed under the immense force, bending him so torturously that his vision went white. His arms buckled. He counted to two, imagining the speed of the energy blast, and at the exact moment that it caught the beast and it screamed, he triggered the unlocking of his limbs, falling down in a graceless heap and covering Megatron completely so that the pulse of scalding energy shot over his wounded back, sparing the broken body beneath him. 

***

Optimus was not jealous.

Just because the first thing Megatron had said when he’d onlined again had been “Soundwave?”, and Optimus recognized with a plummeting feeling in his spark the emotionless voice that had thrown Megatron during the battle, did not mean that he was _jealous_.

“Repaired and healing,” the black feline answered softly from beside the medberth. “Thanks to the timely intervention of Vindexor.” It turned its head to regard Optimus, laid flat on the next berth as the welding of his replaced back struts cooled and set, and nodded the barest fraction in acknowledgement before padding out the door with a swish of its tail.

Optimus felt an unseemly urge to offer a wholly inappropriate and petty observation, like how Megatron had been able to ignore all of the mechs who’d been shrieking for help only to show some blatant bias when it’d been his third-in-command who’d faltered. 

He was _not jealous_.

“Why did you save me?”

Optimus vented. Shoved all of the unbefitting things he wanted to say into a small data packet and put it aside. “Why wouldn’t I have?”

Megatron was staring up at the ceiling. That charismatic voice, normally so expressive, was without inflection. “I am the leader of the Decepticons. When we have defeated our common enemy, we will go straight back to being at war. You could have gained an enormous advantage by letting me die.”

Optimus slanted a glance at him. “Did you not hear what I said before?” he asked grimly. “We save everyone we can. You and I agreed to fight this foe together, and I would not have betrayed your trust for a future that might not even come to pass.”

Megatron laughed at that. It sounded a bit choked. “Well noted, Prime.”

***

The next time they went to the canyon, Soundwave was there, silent and waiting. Optimus had to tamp down a flicker of irritation as Megatron brushed past him to clasp the other’s arm and look him over.

“You are well?” 

Soundwave inclined his helm. “Yes.”

Megatron smiled. Smiled! 

Optimus resisted the urge to reboot his optics. Or find a task that he could give Soundwave, one that would preferably take the mech to the far side of the base.

“Soundwave: observe?”

Megatron shrugged. “If you wish. Though it has been challenging to test the limits of Vindexor through these aimless exercises.”

“Vindexor: would like opponent?”

Megatron appeared to mull the question over. His gaze flicked to Optimus, who had come up to stand beside him.

“The offer is appreciated, Soundwave. But I do not know if you would be a- ” Optimus hesitated, because it really wasn’t in him to be _rude_ , even to a mech who was clearly taking liberties with- with something, “-a suitable opponent,” he finished as diplomatically as he could. When he and Megatron combined, Vindexor was almost three times as large as the communications specialist with about twenty times more firepower, if Optimus had to give an estimate.

Soundwave chuckled. “Soundwave: not volunteering. Devastator: more suitable?”

Oh. “That’s a good suggestion,” Optimus admitted. “Megatron?”

Megatron shrugged again. “Why not.”

Optimus found out exactly why Megatron had been so cooperative when he punched Prowl off Devastator’s shoulders for the fifth time.

***

It felt surreal sitting calmly as Vindexor, Wheeljack bustling around them taking measurements and scanning their combined components with the fervent delight of a weapons specialist immersed in an unending spiral of possibilities.

“What’s this?” Wheeljack had to climb onto an outcropping in order to tap the side panel he was indicating. “It’s reinforced, but looks flexible?”

Megatron gave a slight grunt. His hand - or it might have been Optimus’ - came up to warningly brush Wheeljack’s eager servos aside. “I believe that might be the back of one of my tank treads.”

Wheeljack frowned. “You’re not sure? You can’t feel it?”

Megatron snorted. It was an interesting question; Optimus himself could feel the touch, but it was distant, as though Wheeljack had patted them through a mesh blanket. He sent his observation in a comm, and Wheeljack let out a considering hmm.

“You might want to examine your combiner form more closely, Optimus, Megatron. Familiarize yourselves with where your weaponry has shifted. At the very least, it would be good to know where your spark chambers have moved so we can put in some extra shielding on those parts. It might result in a slight imbalance to your frames when you’re separate, but I think you’ll both agree that it’s better to have more protection than less when we’re up against our creators. And of course, it’d only be temporary.” 

Because of course, once the threat was gone, Optimus and Megatron would never combine again. Vindexor would be put to rest. Megatron would go back to being on the other side of enemy lines, with his snarky words and brilliant, focused fighting. Optimus was not prepared for the baseless dismay that spread through his processor at the thought.

Wheeljack excused himself to his lab, waving goodbye with the datapad full of new information. Optimus sent a distracted comm of thanks in return, and then pushed his dismal thoughts aside in favor of pressing a hand to the aforementioned tank tread. It really did feel odd. Optimus slid his fingers down and up again, wondering where his own components ended and where Megatron’s began. He moved his hand across their chest, and idly noticed the small port under the left arm, sealed shut. Curious, he brushed around it. It seemed to warm under his touch as he flicked around the seams. He was completely unprepared for the hitch in Megatron’s breathing and the sudden creak of his arm as Megatron wrestled back control twitchily.

:: What are you doing? :: Optimus asked, confused. :: What was that? ::

Megatron hissed at him. :: Not any weapon you need to concern yourself with, Prime. Move along. ::

But now of course Optimus was suspicious because Megatron was clearly trying to hide something, and as soon as Megatron relinquished control of the arm, Optimus was stroking the panel again, wondering if he’d have to pry it open to see what lay beneath. It felt oddly sensitive even to his secondhand sensory suite, and if it was something dangerous or volatile that could fry Optimus’ own processor when they were combined-

Megatron gave a low moan, and Optimus’ fingers seized up.

:: ...Megatron? ::

Megatron paused, and then, unbelievably, _laughed_ at him. :: Well don’t stop now, Prime. Since you seem so determined to get into my _lumbar port_ \- ::

Optimus jerked his hand away, embarrassment flooding every circuit along with an unexpected wave of _heat_. 

Which of course Megatron had to have noticed, because Primus was not doing his Chosen any favors lately. Optimus despaired, fingers curling up in his lap, waiting for the inevitable mockery and already wondering how he could apologize enough for his impropriety.

Instead, Megatron cleared his intake, and then...wordlessly triggered the commands that separated them. It was hard not to gasp in relief when his own HUD and entire sense of self returned, soothing and familiar. 

“I have to check on my Decepticons,” Megatron announced, apropos of nothing. “We will speak again at the strategy meeting tomorrow?”

“...Yes.” If Megatron noticed the waver in Optimus’ voice, he chose to ignore it, a small mercy that Optimus would forever be grateful for.

***

In the middle of finalizing the rationing of the remaining fuel for the base, the ground shook under them, and the room split apart with a deafening screech, a dazzling light and unbearable fire blistering down from above like relentless hammer strikes. 

Optimus forced a diagnostic through his ringing audials, reaching out blindly. :: Ironhide? Bumblebee? :: They had been sitting next to him, and across from him on the other side of the table had been…

:: Megatron? :: he commed, trying not to let the dread swamp his fritzing circuitry. His optics were completely shattered. :: Megatron! ::

A large hand closed around his wrist and pulled Optimus forward, the familiar field flaring warmth and reassurance. He felt the lips move against his helm rather than heard. 

_Vindexor._

Sight returned on a garbled, glitching screen. Something must have happened to Megatron’s helm because the sensory input was staggering and yawing and it appeared they were missing a left foot, which could also have been the reason for the imbalance. Megatron shoved their hands together - which was much harder when one arm was almost entirely broken - and with a wheezing snarl, the shield transformed upwards with its protective force field, spreading around them. As the dust cleared, Optimus could see Ironhide rousing, disoriented and cursing. Starscream had thrown himself over Soundwave and was now a smoking mess while the communications specialist jerked in the throes of a systems crash. Bumblebee was pinned under the remnants of the wall that had been behind them, chest caved in and unconscious for the count.

:: Ironhide. :: Optimus commed, the steel in his voice surprising himself. :: You must get up. Bring a medic to our location right away. :: 

Ironhide didn’t even waste the energy to answer. He nodded as he pulled himself up to his feet and staggered through the crumbling remains of another wall, beginning to run.

“...Optimus?” Megatron’s voice was gravelly, as if it hurt to speak. “Can you stand?”

The ankle joint where his missing foot had been was still sparking, little electric currents that arced off uselessly where cables had been. Optimus twisted down and opened up the small welding tool in his lower leg, cauterizing the snapped lines. :: Yes. ::

With a monumental effort that made Optimus’ struts quiver, Megatron braced the broken arm on his side, and then heaved the force field up, leaving it in place and limping awkwardly outside of it as the shield transformed back into their hands. He spared it a measuring glance - it would have to hold over their fallen for as long as it took Ironhide to come back.

Then they were clearing the demolished base in large strides, loping awkwardly away on their uneven legs, until they stopped and stared at the sky where the Quintesson mothership had appeared. It was as large as five worldsweepers joined into one, hovering above the surface of their city with the promise of death and further destruction. 

:: There is a secondary transformation to our cannon. :: Megatron said tightly. :: It might be strong enough to damage that ship. But it will likely take from our spark energies, and leave us vulnerable. ::

Optimus didn’t hesitate. :: Do it. ::

The plates on their right arm transformed, and then _pulled_ more metal from the rest of their frame, chestplates and abdominal armor flipping and unfolding, sliding forward to expand the firing barrel. The charge began to gather, a rising whine of energy, and Optimus felt a nauseating tug on his fuel pump - or perhaps it was Megatron’s - as all their systems diverted power to the weapon. It felt heavy, _too_ heavy, and then it began to burn at their vents, excruciatingly hot and glowing malevolently. It felt like they were caught up in a furious maelstrom, losing all sense of separation as their sparks and parts melted together.

:: Optimus. :: Megatron’s voice was a guttural breath. :: Fire. ::

So he did. 

***

When Optimus came to, it was with a frisson of alarm and a disbelieving surprise that he was _still alive_. His systems were pinging cascading lines of warnings, but he was in his own body again. Well. What was left of it. He could feel that his entire right arm and leg were gone, and his chest felt oddly open. But at least his optics had been replaced, so he could turn his head and watch Ratchet scurrying around him, muttering under his breath about heroic sacrifices and idiocy. 

It felt like something else was missing, and the answer came to him immediately. “Megatron?” Or that was what Optimus tried to say, anyway, but his vocalizer was shot and only a series of disjointed clicks emerged. It was enough for Ratchet to drop the tools he was holding and rush to Optimus’ side, relief swamping his field. “Optimus.”

He blinked at Ratchet, then sent a comm, repeating himself. :: Megatron? ::

Ratchet was grim, studying Optimus intently. Then he nodded to Optimus’ other side. “He’s over there. But Optimus, I have to tell you something you’re not going to want to hear- ”

Optimus had already turned his head back, and his vents caught. 

Megatron was looking right back at him, the small smile on his face not marred in the slightest by the fact that a corner of his helm had been crushed in. He was sitting up, fresh welds so thick and numerous on his chest that it took Optimus another moment to realize that Megatron was missing both arms. 

They made a ridiculous pair. Optimus could feel his own smile fighting free. 

“Optimus,” Ratchet’s voice was stern. “You’ll probably feel it any moment now, so I want to tell you clearly. You and Megatron combined too deeply in the secondary transformation. It was a slagging miracle we managed to separate you afterwards. But your sparks merged to fire the weapon, and the damage was already done. Unfortunately, you’re both now...bonded.”

Bonded? Was that the warmth throbbing in his chest, the flicker of wary amusement that pushed in from the outside? Was that quick flare of uncertainty his own, or Megatron’s?

“You won’t be able to stay too far apart,” Ratchet continued. “You might feel some feedback of whatever the other is experiencing if it’s intense. And- ” his voice dipped to an ominous low, “-you won’t be able to injure each other without injuring yourselves.”

How was that for two opposing leaders in a war?

:: Come here. :: he commed Megatron, as authoritatively as he could from a prone position. The light in Megatron’s red optics narrowed to a slit, and Optimus belatedly added :: Please? ::

It was kind of unfair that Megatron had both his legs left. It meant Optimus couldn't be the one to go to him, as everything in him wanted to right now. 

Then the warlord heaved himself to his feet and crossed the few steps that separated them, and Optimus had just enough presence of mind to comm Ratchet and tell the medic as politely as he could to get out. He turned his attention back to Megatron who was settling gingerly beside him on the berth, lips curling again in a slow smile that Optimus was now willing to concede was blindingly attractive.

:: Kiss me. :: he said finally, and Megatron laughed out loud and did just that.


End file.
